


Pest Control

by Socrates3000



Category: Homestuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-14
Updated: 2011-06-14
Packaged: 2017-10-20 09:59:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/211540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Socrates3000/pseuds/Socrates3000
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draconian Dignitary takes his royal pain Jack Noir shopping with some stupid results.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pest Control

"You know." Dignitary had to stifle back a little bit of a giggle. Laughing right now would mean the end of his job. The end of every moment of happiness. And most assuredly the end of his life. "You don't go to a flea market. . . for fleas." Stopped a second to keep his cool.It would be very hard taking this situation seriously. The look he was getting made it clear that this was most certainly a very, very important situation. VERY VERY IMPORTANT.

His boss, the honorable king douche-clown himself Jack Noir stared at him with nothing but contempt. The look on his face dared Draconian to say something. Anything.

Really, the itching was driving the man insane. Horrible little dersian fleas were gnawing on his flesh. HIS FLESH. He was the royal dude. THE leader and mass slaughterer. He was the one who stole the ring. He would not find himself tormented by. . . parasites! It was that damned prototyping's fault really. The devilbeast that gave him his amazing powers, the one that really made him untouchable. And yet, it was the thick fur that he had inherited from the dog along with the quantum teleportation that harbored the vile insects. What did he even do to deserve this torment. This constant biting and itching, it was worse than listening to the Courtyard Droll describe his day and all the pretty things that he saw. God dammit he just had to try on that shirt didn't he? How did this all start anyway?

Oh yeah that's right. New clothes. The Dignitary burst into his office during peak slaughtering hours and started babbling about how if he was going to be the new head of state then he'd better look it. Noir remembers telling him that he can dress how he likes and wearing these clothes was like snubbing his nose at the bluh bluh huge bitch who had forced him to wear this stuff in the first place. Besides, he liked rags, you can hide so many nice daggers in rags. And they never have to be cleaned. Especially when they were just going to get bloodstained again. And then Dignitary threatened to bring the Droll in and ask him about his favorite new show, something about ponies. That little brain-dead freak had been babbling about fluttershies and applejacks all week and everyone knew that Noir hated it. Jack agreed and said that they could go shopping for new clothes if he got to choose the place and Dignitary agreed a bit reluctantly but Jack didn't care.

So to get back at the Dignitary, Noir chose the absolute cheapest, worst place to find clothing he could think of in all of Derse. The Flea Market. And not just any flea market, because to be honest there were some pretty nice ones around. More along the upperclass side to be honest. Some pretty fancy antiques sellers taking advantage of all the recent fighting. Scavengers selling dead man's beloved trinkets to the Dersian yuppies. But no, that's not where Jack decided to go. He went straight to the stinking heart of Derse itself. Where you would be accosted for a few boonbucks by at least five bums, no matter what you were doing. Jack loved coming down into that area every once and a while to return to his roots. The feeling you could mugged at any second was like slipping into comfortable clothes. Especially if he was doing the stabbing.

Draconian didn't like it though. Of course he didn't. Noir was chuckling to himself for a bit. To that prissy, wine-sipping bureaucrat this must have been torture. Once again, Noir didn't care. These were his people. The hagglers, the shankers, the druggies, all the imperfect souls who made up his type of nation. He tried on a few shirts. And bought a couple of pants just to please the Dignitary, but really he didn't plan to do much. He was actually getting pretty hungry. He was thinking about stopping at a McDerse to get a Big Nak just to annoy the Draconian more when it started. The scratching, burning sensation. He felt dull pain on countless parts of his body and couldn't help scratching.

Fleas. The ever so royal executor-in-king Noir had fleas.

FUCK.


End file.
